


HOPE CHEST

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Episode Related, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-02
Updated: 1999-09-02
Packaged: 2018-11-10 06:46:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11121993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Fraser finds his Mother' hope chest and it opens up a flood of memories he never knew he had.





	HOPE CHEST

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

 

HOPE CHEST

**Author's disclaimer** : Although the story is mine,  
it is  
a work of fiction based on the character of Due South. All Characters  
portrayed here belong to Alliance. Please do not print/copy/download  
or send any part of this story to anyone else, other than for your personal  
enjoyment. Thank you.

         Well, here is a story that didn't turn out anything like I thought it would, but Fear *Aradia dared me to write it so I hope you enjoy my attempt. There are minor spoilers for Call of the Wild, though the ending of this episode differs in my story. References to Some like it Red. Overall the story itself takes place ofer the course of Fraser's knowing both Ray's {Vecchio and Kowalski} so it jumps back and forth a bit. 

This story is **rated PG** -for violence and death story.   
        Please contact me at   
        Puhleese tell me whatcha' think!!! :).   
  

  


**HOPE CHEST**

BY: **Amethyst**   
  

         Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, son of Robert and Caroline Fraser. Friend to Detective Raymond Vecchio, subordinate of Inspector Margaret Thatcher, traitor to his fellow Canadian officers, sexual torment to Francesca Vecchio, scapegoat to Victoria Metcaf, and joke to the Americans around him. Here he sat alone in his sparsely furnished apartment staring at the small square trunk that stood before him, adorned in layers of wood and hide and delicate hand-knit embroidery.   
         His Mother's hope chest. It had been found in their old house by the new owners, who had decided to add on to the small log cabin, in the bottom of the root cellar. It must have been missed by his Father when Robert Fraser collected the necessary items needed to move a young Benton Fraser in with his grandparents after his mother's death. Robert Fraser had never returned to the home that he had shared with his wife, once she was gone he never went back except for those few things for Benton.   
         Now, so many long years later, Fraser finally had something of Caroline's to remember her by, yet now he was afraid. He had grieved for his mother when she had died, but he had been only six and they had never let him see his Mother's body. Grandmother Fraser had taken him directly to her house, never got to see his Mother or his beloved little house again. Robert Fraser had come finally and collected those things he deemed pertinent, then sold the cabin, the same cabin that had burned to the ground before Benton was born, forcing his parents to live in an igloo for many months where according to his father was where Benton was conceived.   
         So many times growing up, Fraser would start to rush home to tell his Mother something exciting that had happened to him, then would reprimand himself for being foolish. His Mother was dead and he must move on. He had not cried when his Grandmother had taken him with her, they had told him that, though he did not remember much of that day, an oddity considering his near perfect recall. He had not cried when Robert Fraser had told him his Mother would never return to him. He had not cried at the quiet funeral or for all the years following. He had not cried, but he had grown angry, very angry. Why had death claimed his beautiful Mother, the only person Fraser ever believed loved him. Why had they not taken his Father, a man he barely knew and rarely saw instead? His mother had been good and kind and never bothered anyone and she died. Fraser went through various stages of guilt over those years. He had not really wanted Robert Fraser to die, he loved that man more than anyone, even his  dear beloved mother, yet Robert never seemed to reciprocate. He felt guilty for having loved his father more, believed death had taken his mother as punishment, believed she died for daring to show Fraser she loved him.   
         Then, after years of burying his anger and grief, Fraser had started to finally know his father a little better, and if he was almost sure that the years of guilt, from neglecting his son, were building up on Robert Fraser and causing him to visit Fraser more often. He had made a special effort to get home for Christmas, or Fraser's birthday, even though they did not celebrate or speak much, it was a start. Fraser had quickly joined the RCMP to become a Mountie like his Father, so they would have something in common. His Grandmother Fraser died shortly after she confessed to him that she was proud of him. Fraser had written briefly to his father a few times and Fraser was waiting for an opening to express his true feelings to the man he so adored, when the news came that Robert Fraser had been shot, gunned down by his own friend. Once again it seemed that someone who dared to love him was taken by death's cold hand.   
         Now, here he was, staring at his Mother's trunk, wishing for an absolution. He still in some ways blamed himself for her death and he was hesitant to delve into Caroline Fraser's inner most thoughts by seeing the types of treasures she kept. With a deep breath, an encouraging whine from Diefenbaker, and a shaky hand, Fraser knelt beside the trunk and slowly lifted the lid. A light smell of peppermint greeted him and he was surprised to feel tears spring to his eyes. His Mother always smelled like peppermint, her one vice was stocks of the favored candy that Robert Fraser always brought home for her, and she was always sneaking them to Fraser with a secretive smile, knowing Robert Fraser wouldn't approve. Robert Fraser, however, was rarely there, but Caroline made extra attempts to play their secret game in front of her husband whenever possible. After Caroline died, Fraser couldn't force himself to eat another peppermint, it was too painful a reminder of what once was.   
         Inside the trunk were various picture books, papers and some small crafts. Fraser recognized some of them, but not all, for some had been from Caroline's own childhood. He retrieved a small cigar box, tied with a pretty red ribbon, his Mother's favorite color, and pulled it out on to his lap to open it. He suddenly remembered his Mother telling him that was why she married Robert Fraser, because she had seen him the first time in that dashing red tunic and decided any man that wore her colors so proudly would be her husband. It was funny how he hadn't recalled that particular conversation before, but he had only snatches of memory about Caroline Fraser.   
          Turning his attention back to the box, he found it held Christmas, Birthday and an assortment of other holiday's cards, homemade by Fraser when he was a child. He pulled out a crepe paper Mother's Day offering, that had a picture of Caroline drawn in shaded charcoal with rainbows and flowers adorning the background. It was a very good likeness of his Mother and Fraser realized it was the last card he had given her. He opened it up and read the small poem he had penned inside in shaky, grade letters.   
        _"I love to hear you laughing_   
_I love to see you smile_   
_I love it when you hug me_   
_And make me feel worth while_   
_I love all this about you_   
_And so I simply say_   
_I'm glad you are my Mother_   
_So Happy Mother's Day"_   
Fraser had borrowed his Teacher's dictionary to help him find just the right words for the card and he was surprised when Caroline had cried when she read it, for he thought that meant she didn't like it. He stayed on the mantel for three months after, for every one to see when they came to visit, for Caroline was sure to point it out by saying   
         "Look what my wonderful Benny made me."   
         "Benny?" Fraser raised his head at his name being softly spoken by his partner and Friend Ray Vecchio. Ray Vecchio had knocked on his partner's door and entered hen he received no answer, surprised the usually alert Mountie had not heard him. As always the detective was impeccable dressed in a dark gray suit, pale shirt and colorful tie   
         "Hello, Ray." Fraser greeted in warm surprise, as Ray coiled himself into a sitting position beside him and Diefenbaker wandered over to see what his favorite junk-food supplier had brought for him. Ray chuckled and petted the wolf affectionately.   
         "Not today, Dief." He explained receiving a protesting whine from the animal that settled once gain by the window. "Whatch'a got here, Benny?"   
         "It was my Mother's Hope Chest, Ray." Explained Fraser quietly, suddenly glad that his friend was here and he didn't have to explore the contents alone. "It was sent to me yesterday by some people who own our old cabin, they found it in a root cellar." Ray glanced at the card his partner     held.   
         "You make that?" Fraser nodded and handed it to the detective, who examined it carefully. "This is real nice, Benny. You're Mom was pretty." Fraser nodded.   
         "She was beautiful." He stated quietly as Ray read the card, then saw the date at the bottom.   
 "You were, what..six when you made this?" he asked and Fraser nodded. "Jeez, Benny, I couldn't even draw a stick man at that age." Fraser shrugged and placed the card back in the box.   
         "I've always been able to draw, I get it from Mum." He didn't mention that that was the last card he had made for Caroline, feeling it better left alone. "She used to paint and draw with pencils. I always..." he broke off and noticed Ray watching him thoughtfully. He was talking too much, better to just get back to the task at hand. He replaced the card box and pulled out a soft blue, slightly ragged around the edges, blanket.   
         "What's that?" asked Ray as Fraser held it up and examined it carefully.   
         "It was my baby blanket." He remarked surprised. "I used to take it with me everywhere, until Dad decided it was silly for a grown boy to be dragging around a blanket, so he threw it out."   
        "How old were you?"   
         "Three, no two I think." Remarked Fraser, caressing the soft material. Ray snorted.   
         "A grown child!" he retorted. "You were a baby, Benny." Fraser shrugged, he had stopped trying to explain his Father's actions years ago and had grown to accept that was just who Robert Fraser was.   
         "Mum must have dug it out of the trash and washed it." He murmured, more to himself then his partner beside him. That surprised him, since for the most part Caroline rarely defied Robert Fraser on such issues, yet she had rescued his beloved blanket and packed it safely inside her chest, knowing her husband would never dare invade this particular area of his wife's. He pulled it up to his face and breathed in, peppermint and baby powder. Ray observed him quietly, not wanting to intrude on whatever memories his friend might be reliving.   
         "Tell me about her, Benny." Requested Ray quietly, sensing Fraser needed to talk. At first, Fraser was silent, he just continued to stare at the cloth in his hands, until finally he spoke.   
         "I killed her." He admitted quietly. Ray stared at him shocked.   
         "What? How can you say that, Benny? Where in the hell do you get such an idea?"   
         "She died because...." Fraser broke off and averted his eyes. After a moment he folded the blanket and placed it carefully to the side, the reached in and retrieved a small bag of pink candy. "Peppermint Knobs!" he exclaimed delighted. Ray allowed him to change the subject and stared at the foreign looking candy with pink and white stripes.   
         "What's a Peppermint Knob?" he asked curious.   
         "It's a special mint candy made by Purity."   
         "Okay, what's a Purity?" continued Ray confused and Fraser chuckled.   
         "Purity is a factory in Newfoundland that makes a variety of products, candies, biscuits, hard tac, things like that. Mum used to send for products every few months."   
         "And you can only get these things in New'finland?" asked Ray.   
         "Newfoundland, Ray." Corrected Fraser automatically. "Yes, but I believe there are some specialty stores in the larger cities that carry their products as well." Fraser replaced the candy. "Mum used to love peppermint." He glanced over a few other items, most of which held little or no meaning for him, or that he had seen before, then he found an small misshapen carving. He pulled it out and examined it.   
         "What's that?" inquired Ray.   
         "My very first attempt at whittling." Explained Fraser, as Ray plucked it from his fingers to get a better look.   
         "What's it supposed to be?"   
         "A beaver." Replied Fraser almost proudly and Ray chuckled.   
         "Are you sure?" he teased, looking at the piece from every angle. "Looks more like a whale crossed with a flagpole." Fraser snatched it from him.   
         "I was only four, Ray." He insisted indignantly and Ray grinned. "Mum knew what it was." He examined it more closely and had to agree that Ray's description was indeed more appropriate. "At least I think she knew." Ray couldn't help but release the laugh he had been holding. Fraser fixed him with a scolding stare, but that only made the detective laugh harder. Fraser shook his head, feeling the corners of his mouth twitch, as he replaced the carving.   
         "If you're going to be mean to me, Ray, you can leave now." He commented, half-teasing. Ray sobered, with some difficulty.   
         "I'm sorry, Benny." He offered, still grinning. "I'll be good, promise." Fraser nodded and returned to his search. There was quite a bit of leather working, that he remembered his Mother had hand stitched, a few books, some photos of her as a young girl and of Fraser when he was a baby. He pulled out a small suede pair of baby boots, he assumed were his and a matching bonnet. Ray chuckled over those as well, though did admit the stitch-work on them were wonderful.   
         "Mum had made everything." Informed Fraser putting them back inside and pulling out a worn leather bound book with his Mother's name.   
         "What's that?" inquired Ray curious, as Fraser slid back the leather tie and pulling it open. He snapped it shut quickly, surprising Ray. "What is it?"   
         "It's...Mum's journal." Fraser almost whispered. "I hadn't known she kept one, I never saw her writing like I did Dad."   
         "Why don' you read it?" suggested Ray, sensing perhaps it would be good for the Mountie, but Fraser shook his head and placed it back inside the trunk. "You read your Father's journals."   
         "That's different, Ray." Stated Fraser quietly. Most of the time he read his Father's journals to help him solve a case, and to get to know the man he never knew in life. His head shot up in shock, where had that thought come from? "I..I can't invade Mum's privacy."   
         "Benny." Began Ray gently. "The reason most people write journals is so they can leave a history if their thoughts and feelings behind, especially to their loved ones." He watched an array of emotions pass over his partner's face. "I think you should read it." Fraser shrugged. Maybe later, not now, for some reason he just couldn't read it now and he wondered why it was he could never detach himself from his Mother the way he had everything else.   
 He glanced up at the growing darkness that was settling over the apartment and pulled the trunk shut   
         "Let's go get something to eat, Ray." He remarked rising from his position on the floor, working out the cramps in his legs from sitting too long, as he also helped Vecchio to his feet. He'd had enough memories for one day.   
         "Sure, Benny." The detective greed easily as Fraser grabbed his hat and Diefenbaker proceeded him out the door. 

         "Benny! Benny where are you?" Benton Fraser crouched behind the snow fort he had been building as the woman continued to call to him. She was getting closer to his location and though his tiny hands were freezing even with his thick leather mitts, he remained silent and still. Just a little closer, he thought, a few more steps. He heard the soft crunch of  mucklucks against the snow and jumped out at his prey screaming. Caroline Fraser caught him up in her arms and fell back into the snow laughing.   
         "I won!" crowed Benton as he straddled his Mother's thin frame. "You didn't find me before I found you!" Caroline grabbed him and pulled him down, managing to tickle his tiny squirming body, despite the heavy winter clothes that shielded him from the harsh cold around them. He giggled hysterically and pleaded for her to stop, so she rose and pulled him with her. She shaped a snowball in her small, delicate palm and threw it at him, he reciprocated in kind, chasing her back to the log cabin that held the warmth and comfort of home.   
         Inside the Tack room, they quickly discarded their outer clothing and footwear and entered the inner sanctuary of the cabin. Benton could smell roasting chicken and vegetables simmering on the wood stove in the corner of the room, as he hurried to his small room and reached under his single bed. He pulled out his small leather bookbag, that had been given to him for Christmas, for he was in grade one now, and he need to have something suitable to carry his books. Although the tiny schoolhouse only held a handful of children, he was enjoying it, despite the fact that he was the only Caucasian attending. A few of the children teased him for his thick black hair, deep blue eyes and pale complexion, but he ignored them. He received his looks from his parents and to him they were the two most beautiful people in the world.   
         Quickly he pulled out the crepe paper creation his teacher had helped him to construct, folded it gently up under his sweater, and then headed back into the main room of the cabin. His Mother was stirring the vegetables as he shyly made his way toward her, inhaling the scent of the food and the lingering scent of peppermint. He tugged on her shirttail and waited for her to look down at him, before presenting her with the card. She read it and he watched tears stream down her beautiful, pale face. He started shaking, thinking he had done something wrong, but then his Mother was crushing him to her, thanking him over and over for the gift and whispering how much she loved her darling Benny.   
         A feeling of pride and contentment flowed over him as his Mother placed the card in a special place of honor atop the mantel, next to his parent's wedding picture and his grandparent's photo. He watched her place a small handmade doily under it, giving it an even more treasured quality. She grabbed him up and hugged him again, holding him high so he could get a better view of the card. He smiled at her, as she reached into her pocket and retrieved two peppermint knobs, one for her and one for him. 

         Fraser awoke in a cold sweat, dawn was barely starting to filter through the small windows of his apartment, as Diefenbaker awoke to glance up at his master. Fraser was breathing as though he had been running a marathon and he was shaking. The dream hadn't been a bad one, it was actually one of his favorite memories, but he had not dreamed of his mother since he was barely a teenager and that alone seemed to scare him. He rose from his bed and walked over to pull the window farther open.   
         The cold hit him instantly, the evening air seemed to have a cleaner scent then it did during the day in Chicago.   
         "Early bird gets the worm, Son." Greeted Robert Fraser from behind him, and this time Fraser didn't even flinch at his Father's unannounced visit.   
         "Morning Dad." He returned quietly, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall of the wall, as he stared out at dawn coming over the city. "How are you?"   
         "Well, I'm dead, son." Returned Robert. "Other than that do you mean? Fraser sighed and shook his head as his Father continued. "How are you?" Fraser didn't answer him and he walked around to gaze over his son's sullen face. "What's the matter now, for heaven's sake?"   
         "Nothing." Replied Fraser, glancing at him.   
         "Well, there must be something wrong, or you wouldn't be pouting."   
         "I'm not pouting, Dad." Protested Fraser wearily. "I don't pout."   
         "Looks like you're pouting." Observed Robert.   
         "Well, I'm not."   
         "Feeling sorry for yourself then." Reiterated his Father.   
         "No, Dad."   
         "Then what the hell is the matter?"   
         "I told you, nothing."   
         "Fine then," huffed Robert. "Don't tell me." Fraser remained silent. "Well?"   
         "Well what, Dad?"   
         "What's wrong?"   
         "You just told me not to tell you."   
         "For Christ's sake, Ben, don't throw my own words up at a time like this." Scolded his Father. "Now tell me what's wrong."   
         "Why did you sell our cabin, Dad?" Fraser asked suddenly, watching the surprised look that registered on Robert Fraser Sr.'s face.   
         "Where the devil did that come from?" he demanded confused.   
         "Answer the question, Dad."   
          "You had to go live with your grandparents when your Mother died." Explained Robert, a slight tone of indignation rose in him and Fraser suspected he was trying to justify his actions.     "There was no one else to look after you and I had to work. It was easier to just sell the house, since neither of us would be there anyway."   
         "But you never went back." Reminded Fraser. "After.....when you went to get our things, you never went back again. Why?" Robert Fraser stared at him, a touch of sadness in his eyes, and a feeling of uneasiness settled around his features.   
         "After your Mother died I..I couldn't go back, Ben." He admitted. "Caroline was in every piece of that damned house and I couldn't bare to return to it without her." Fraser was surprised by his father's admitted weakness, and his face must have shown it, for his face grew angry. "For God's sake, Son. I wasn't that much of a monster, was I? I loved your mother, she was my life, of course it was hard to loose her."   
         "If she meant so much, why didn't you stick around more often?" demanded Fraser angrily. "Why didn't you show her you loved her, why didn't you show me."   
         "Your mother knew I loved her." Insisted Robert irritated. "And you should have known as well, I'm your Father after all. I shouldn't have had to show you."   
         "Yes, we knew." Admitted Fraser reluctantly. "But would it have hurt you to show us a little kindness, a little affection, just so we could be sure?"   
         "You're talking nonsense, Son." Dismissed Robert. "Besides, what's done is done and there is nothing more can be said."   
         "Yes, you're absolutely right, Dad." Agreed Fraser grimly. When he heard no response he glanced up and found his Father had disappeared again. "Coward." He muttered, leaning down to ruffle Diefenbaker ears, lovingly, the wolf having come to sit beside him.   
  

           "Hey, Benny!" called Ray as the Mountie entered the precinct. "I was just going to come and pick you up." Fraser allowed his friend a small smile, as he held his Stetson firmly between his fingers, his brown jacket serge blending in more appropriately than his bright red uniform.   
         "Inspector Thatcher released me early and I thought I would save you the trip, Ray." He explained calmly. "I was wondering if you would care to get something to eat."   
         "Sure thing, Benny." Agreed Ray, grabbing his navy suit jacket from the back of his chair. "But it will have to be a to-go meal because we've got a case."   
         "Excellent, Ray." Commented Fraser as they headed downstairs. "What is it?" Ray waited until they were outside and next to the Rivera before speaking again.   
         "A homicide over by the docks." Informed Vecchio as they climbed inside the vehicle. "Hey, where's Dief?"   
         "He's at the vet, Ray." Replied Fraser exasperated. "I had the devils time getting him there this morning, I'd like to pick him up if you don't mind."   
         "No problem, Benny. Is he alright?"   
         "Yes, just a yearly check up and shots, though I am quite sure he will be pleading for sympathy once we do pick him up, so don't let him sway you, Ray. It's all an act I assure you." Ray chuckled, knowing the wolf's flare for dramatics when it might get him some extra sweets out of pity.   
         They arrived at the docks a short time later, there was already a forensics team and photographer going over the scene. Fraser instructed Diefenbaker to stay in the car, which he was happy to do as it added to his plea for sympathy, and followed Ray over toward the sheet-covered body. A young officer met up with them.   
         "What's the scoop?" demanded Vecchio, glancing around at the scene.   
         "Young black woman, mid twenties, strangled and stripped naked, then dumped here. So far doesn't look like there is any evidence connecting the possible killer; nothing under the nails or hair, no identifying marks and doesn't look like he did anything else but strangle her. Coroner will be able to tell us more." Ray nodded and he and Fraser moved closer to the body. Fraser glanced at the officer next to it.   
         "May I?" he inquired and the man nodded, so Fraser pulled back the sheet and glanced over the woman's features. There was a thin line around her neck, perhaps the weapon had been a tight cord or wire, their were specific looking marks all along the base line, small round indents that looked vaguely familiar but he couldn't place them as yet. The woman's face seemed to have been frozen in an expression of shock, rather than fear. Fraser burrowed a thin white rubber glove from the forensics person beside him and touched it to the woman's face, her cheeks, her lips and her eyelids, then examined the fingers of the gloves thoughtfully. "Hmmm."   
         "What is it, Benny?" asked Ray, leaning over to get a better look. Fraser shook his head and pulled off the glove, then pulled the sheet back over her face.   
         "It's probably nothing, Ray." He deterred as he straightened and turned to the young officer who had first met them. "When was she found?"   
         "Early this morning." He told them. "A dock worker found her."   
        "Estimated time of death?" he asked the woman Paleontologist.   
         "I would say around midnight last night, but I'd have to do an autopsy to be sure." Fraser nodded as Ray finished up with some other questions. He asked them to keep him informed and headed back to the car. Once back inside the vehicle he turned to Fraser.   
         "Wanna tell me what you found out?" he asked quietly.   
         "As I said, it's probably nothing, Ray."   
         "Fraser."   
         "Well, I noticed that her make-up was relatively fresh, Ray."   
         "What?" exclaimed Ray. "That was the big hmm thing, the chick did a good job on her makeup?"   
         "You don't understand, Ray." Sighed Fraser calmly. "It wasn't that she wore it well it was fresh. You see most makeup's seem to wear off during the course of an evening, especially foundations, lipsticks and shadows,  and it takes time for the make-up itself to soak into the skin where it won't just rub off, but rather dissolves into the skin beneath it. The victim's make up came off on my glove, indicating that it was still freshly applied and had not yet had the chance to settle into her skin."   
         "And why is a woman who was supposedly killed last night, dumped here, then found this morning, doin' with fresh makeup on? It should have worn off or down or whatever."   
         "Exactly, Ray." Confirmed Fraser as they drove away from the docks. "So, wether the estimated time of death is wrong, the time she was found is wrong, or the killer did return to reapply the woman's makeup."   
         "But why would he do that?"   
         "That's a very good question Ray, but I don't know. It isn't very logical, the chances of being discovered were too high, and the woman was dead, so what would be the purpose of making her face look better?" Fraser paused a moment. "I also noticed the marks around her neck and they looked like a type of bead, perhaps a woman's necklace."   
         "So you think our killer's a woman?"   
         "Or a man dressed as a woman." Suggested Fraser. "As soon as we can get the woman's identified we should perhaps check out the place she works, he friends and so forth." Ray nodded, that was standard procedure in any investigation. 

         They discovered the woman's name was Teresa Lawson, a young medical student from the local college, she lived alone and seemed to have no family to speak of. She worked at a 911 operator in the evenings and went to school during the day, but there was no one who could tell Ray much about her. She had been quiet and did her job, was always on time and never complained or lost her cool during a call.   
         Fraser suggested they retrieve some of her last calls, made the nights before she was murdered, then took them to the station so he and Ray could listen to them. They were standard calls, a few panicked people calling in about their son choking or that their friend had been shot. Teresa talked them through the situation, the model of calm and control.   
         "She's good." Remarked Ray, switching off the last tape. "She knew her job well, but there doesn't seem to be anything here that would indicate she was being threatened or even that she ticked someone off; if anything she saved lives and the callers seemed quite grateful."   
         "I agree, Ray." Fraser concurred. "Perhaps her killer didn't know her through work."   
         "Let's try the school again." Suggested Ray, placing the tapes back in their box, so he could return them later. They opened the door to the interview room and headed for Ray's desk, surprised to find Francesca waiting for them. Ray gave her a look that stormed of aggravation. "What are you doin' here, Frannie?"   
         "I came to speak with Fraser." She explained, tossing her brother a look of disdain, then smiling brightly at the Mountie.   
         "How may I help you, Francesca?" he offered politely, as she wound her arm through his.   
         "This is kinda private, Frase." She shot her brother another indignant look.   
         "Talk to him here or not at all." Instructed Ray firmly, as he put the tapes on his desk and reached across to answer his phone that was now ringing. Francesca glared at him and started to pull Fraser further away, only to have her brother catch her by the collar of her blouse and pull her back. "I said here, Frannie." He reminded, then spoke to the caller. Francesca shook his hand off of her and Fraser felt sorry for her, s he gently unfolded their arms and put some distance between them.   
         "It's alright, Ray." He assured calmly, knowing that his partner was simply trying to protect him from his sister's advances. He guided Francesca a short distance away, but where Ray could still see them so his Partner wouldn't get upset.  Francesca smiled gratefully at him.   
         "Thanks Frase." She offered, reaching up to straighten her already snug blouse. "He's so suspicious, what's he think I'm going to do to you anyway?" Fraser bit his lip.   
         "I'm sure I don't know, Francesca." He lied. "How can I help you?" Her face became animated with secrecy.   
 "Well, I just wanted to ask you to dinner tonight." He glanced back at her brother who was still speaking on the phone. "Tony, Marie and the kids are going to visit Tont's folks, but ma will be there and I'm cooking your favorite guspatcho" She turned her attention back to Fraser. "   
        "Thank you kindly, Francesca." offered Fraser politely,. "But I am afraid Ray and I will be working on a case tonight."   
        "You can't take a couple of hours off to eat?" she pouted and Fraser had to steel himself from dropping a kiss on her lips, she looked absolutely adorable when she did that, he wondered if she knew.   
        "May we do it another time?" he asked gently and she sighed, shooting Ray a look that could kill.   
        "My brother's a slave driver." she muttered peturbed, then she suddenly reached up and kissed Fraser quickly on the cheek. "Later then, Frase." she promised watching the Mountie blush and lower his eyes as Ray approached them.   
         "Let's go, Benny." He encouraged, "They found another body." He glanced at his sister suspiciously. "You go home." Francesca stuck her tongue out at him and Fraser hid his smile.   
        "Francesca." He offered politely, before donning his hat and following Ray out. 

         There were now two women dead, with the exact same MO, only this woman was Caucasian and a freshman in college. Also a medical student at the same university, which tied them together, both studying paleontology, so that is where they decide to concentrate their search for a killer. They questioned students that were in the same classes, professors that the two women shared and reviewed their personal effects. One stumbling block they continued to encounter was a Doctor Warwick that taught one of their classes, this gentleman refused to say much to them, insisting he was too busy and had papers to grade.   
         Getting no where, they decided that they needed someone inside the college, but it had to be someone who could grasp the heavy medical terminology easily and appear as ambitious and intelligent as the two victims had, which seemed to be their mutual qualities. Both A students, they were increasingly praised for their hard work by everyone, except Dr. Warwick. Fraser opted to dawn a dress and wig once more, for both his  incredible intelligence and recall and, according to Elaine,  he looked good in a dress.   
          They arranged for fake school records to be entered for Fraser's file, and of course the dean was aware of the undercover Canadian. In the classes, Fraser was infallible in his answers, especially in Warwick's class, which proved to annoy the professor. Ever polite and sweet natured, Fraser found the other students flock to him, which seemed only to increase Warwick's irritation.  Fraser made sure to request extra credit assignments from him, and made a point of voicing his opinions and ambition whenever he knew the professor was near.   
         Finally, after only three days at the college, Fraser met Ray and discussed what he had learned. He sensed that Warwick was ready to make his move and he and Ray devised a plan that would send the man over the edge. At eleven the following evening, Fraser left the library, where he was supposedly studying for an upcoming exam, he had suspected he was being watched from the moment he had left the library, but decided to play it out, knowing he was wired and that Ray was near by. His heals sounded loud on the hard concrete steps, as he descended from the large stone library. He heard someone behind him, their pace quickening to catch up. When he sensed them directly behind him he suddenly turned and stared at the startled face of a young man from his class.   
         "Andrew?' he questioned surprised, recognizing him as a student from Fraser's class as well as someone they had questioned in their earlier investigation. Fraser wondered if the bright youth recognized him. "What are you doing following me?" The young man blushed and grinned sheepishly.   
         "I didn't mean to scare you, Miss. Fraser." He offered quickly. "I was, well, I just wanted to ..well to ask if you might maybe consider having coffee with me or something sometime." Ray Vecchio was laughing his ass off in his car, as he listened to the young man hitting on his partner.   
         "Aren't I a little old for you, Andrew?" Fraser suggested gently, hearing his partner's laughter in his hidden earpiece.   
         "Nah, you're cool." Assured Andrew still grinning. "I mean I think it's great that an older lady like you came back to finish school. I..I think you're real pretty, Miss. Fraser and real smart too.." Fraser smiled sympathetically.   
         "I'm afraid I am already involved with someone." He remarked. "A much, much older man and his name is Ray." That shut Vecchio up, he noticed. "But I'm sure you'll find a nice girl your own age very soon, Andrew." He smiled secretly. "In fact, I believe Mary Johnson finds you quite attractive."   
        "Really?" the youth asked brightening an Fraser nodded in confirmation. "Gee, Mary is pretty cool. Umm, but maybe we could still get together, y'know as friends or something?"   
         "That would be very nice, Andrew." Replied Fraser, knowing he would probably never see the boy again after tonight. "But I'm afraid my Ray is the jealous type and wouldn't like me around any other men, he's very possessive, you see." Andrew nodded.   
         "Well, I can understand that, Miss. Fraser." He accepted. "I would be to."   
         "Thank you, Andrew, now if you will excuse me I really must go." The boy nodded and jogged back in the other direction. Ray waited until Fraser had started walking again, before he spoke into the mike.   
         "Yer gonna pay for that one, Benny." He chuckled. "Yer gonna burn in hell fer leading that poor kid on."   
         "Jealous are you, Ray?' asked Fraser and heard Vecchio's gasp at his audacity.   
         "That ain't funny, Benny." He hissed, he should know better than to get into a battle of wits with the Canadian.   
         "Hmmm." Was all Fraser said as he moved further into the darkened parking lot, where Ray's car was parked. His ears picked up another set of footsteps behind him. "I think the eagle has landed, Ray."   
         "On my way, Benny." Assured Ray, dropping the small radio in his pocket and grabbing his gun from its place on the seat. He quietly got out of the car, and headed up toward where he knew Fraser would be, though he couldn't yet see the Mountie and saw a shadow. He could no longer hear the Canadian in his ear piece and he broke into a run, panic setting in as he called out to his partner name into the mike that connected them. The scene he came upon both frightened and angered him. Another woman, tall with long dark hair, stood over Fraser, who had been driven to his knees from the sudden lack of oxygen his attacker was driving from him with a long string of beads that wrapped around the Mounties's throat. Ray leveled his gun at the perpetrator.   
         "Freeze! Chicago PD!" The woman immediately released Fraser and darted away. Ray ran over to his fallen comrade, who was gasping in the precious air that had been denied him.   
         "Go, Ray." He managed to croak. "I'll be okay." Ray took off after the suspect, back toward the library, then saw a shadow duck down the alley, so he turned left and continued the pursuit. The suspect tried to open the back door of the library and Fraser stepped out of it.   
        The woman turned to run back the other way, But Ray had already taken aim as Fraser stepped up behind. Seeing that there was no alternative route of escape, she listened when Ray ordered her to get on her knees and put her hands above her head. Once Ray had cuffed her, Ray pulled off the suspect's wig and was surprised to find young Andrew, instead of the older Dr. Warwick.   
         "Andrew?" he asked shocked, as the young man shook his head miserably.   
         "Why didn't you let me kill her?" he moaned dejectedly. "She'll take it away from me, just like the others. It's not fair! It's not fair!"   
         "Take what from you?" Ray asked confused, as he pulled the man to his feet.   
         "His career I suspect." Remarked Fraser, removing his own wig and wiping off some of the make up he wore with his handkerchief, causing Andrew to stare at him with disdain.   
         "You set me up!" he screamed. "You're not a woman!"   
         "Hate to break it to you pal," remarked Ray as they headed back to Ray's vehicle. "But neither are you."   
         They headed back to the station and booked the disturbed young man. Fraser had changed back into his normal off duty clothes, as he did not have his uniform at the station. Elaine took him inside the kitchen and helped him remove his makeup with a jar of cold cream she had brought. She smiled up at him as she wiped his face clean.   
        "May I ask you a question, Fraser?" she inquired.   
        "Certainly, Elaine." replied Fraser as he rinsed his face with water from the sink, running it lightly ovver his haaier to reduce the stifness the wig had caused.   
        "You don't...um..enjoy this sort of thing do you?"   
        "What sort of thing, Elaine?"   
        "You know, dressing up in woman's clothes." Fraser smiled and shook his head.   
        "I wouldn't say I enjoy it, Elaine." he admitted combing his hair back and pulling on his blue flannel shirt over his white tee. "But there is a certain appreciation for experiencing life as a woman, regardless of the time spent or the reason for doing it."   
        "You respect women a lot, do't you, Benton?" she observed softly.   
        "They deserve to be respected." he concluded, buttoning his shirt and tucking the tail ends inside the waist band of his jeans, without undoing the keans themselves, since Elaine was still preasant.   
        "Has there ever been a woman you loved and respected more than anything?" she asked almost hopefully and Fraser nodded as they moved out into the main squadroom.   
        "Of course." he replied.   
        "Who was that?"   
        "My Mother." Elaine lowered her eyes, she couldn't condem him for that.   
        "Anyone else?" she pressed quietly as they approached the inteerview rom that Ray was using with Andrew.   
        "Yes." agreed Fraser as he put his hand on the doorknob, only to have Elaine place her hand over his to stop him from going in just yet.   
        "Anyone I know?" she insuinuated and Fraser lowered his eye as he once again felt the heat in his cheeks.   
        "Yes, Elaine." he admitted quietly. "You know her quite well." Elaine felt her heart almost burst from her chest. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Before she could question hi further, however, the door opened and Ray stood there staring at them.   
        "Comin' Benny?" Fraser nodded and quickly steped inside.   
        "Certainly, Ray." he agreed. Ray closed the door, aftr a quick nod to Elaine and continued grilling their suspect. Although Andrew as much as confessed, they wanted to get some more information out of him before he lawyered. They learned that Andrew despised all women doctors, simply because he felt as they were being in a minority, they would be chosen over him because he was a man. His mother had also been a doctor and he had grown up pretty much in his father's care, a man who liked to molest his three sons and dress them in woman's clothes. He knew only the brightest and most determined women made it as Doctors, and so it was his up to him to take them out of the running. He dressed as a woman when he killed them because he felt it would be more terrifying for them to have one of their own attack.   
         "Sick bastard." Muttered Ray as they left Andrew to the care of the state's attorney, who had joined them. "One thing bothers me though, why did he bother with the makeup on the dead women?"   
         "Quite simple, Ray." Replied Fraser as they collected their belongings from Vecchio's desk and Vecchio sighed. What was simple for Fraser was mind boggling to everyone else. They collected their things and headed out of the station as Fraser continued.  "It was his final revenge to paint them up like that to prove they were women, to make sure they were killed because they were female. The same reason he used a beaded necklace, because it was using something of theirs against them." Ray shook his head, as they climbed into the Rivera.   
        "Like I said, sick bastard." He remarked grimly. "How come he managed to get over you though, Benny?"   
         "I had heard the footsteps, Ray." He explained. "And I informed you our prey might be near, but when I turned I saw Warwick heading toward his car. I was, well surprised, but before I could say anything to you, Andrew had jumped me from behind."   
         "So I saved yer butt, then, hey Benny?"   
         "Yes, Ray." Replied Fraser entirely too easily for Ray's liking. "And I am grateful."   
         "But..." continued Ray warily. knowing something else was coming.   
         "Well, if you hadn't been so unprofessional my attention would have never been drawn away from my objective."   
         "What?!" exclaimed Ray in disbelief. "What do you mean unprofessional? I was no such thing!"   
         "Well, you were laughing at my predicament with Andrew, Ray." reminded Fraser calmly. "And if you had been a gentleman you would have treated me with more respect."   
        "Ah, com'on Benny!" laughed Ray. "Why do I gotta be a gentleman to you, you ain't a real woman."   
         "That's entirely besides the point, Ray." Insisted Fraser. "If it had been Elaine, or one of the other women officers, you would have been more protective of my position; if he had been hitting on one of them you would not have been laughing."   
         "Benny, you were a guy dressed like a girl being hit on by another guy!" stated Ray. "Hell, you're a babe magnet no matter what you wear I think that's hilarious."   
         "That's very rude, Ray."   
         "You're so sensitive." Ray knew that Fraser was teasing him, they had played this game before. He started the engine and pulled away from the curb.   
  

         He was cold and hungry and was waiting for something, or someone, to come and get him. His gaze traveled through the small crack in the heavy barn door that allowed him to peer through the window of a nearby house. He saw a woman and the shadow of a man, the woman had her back to him and he couldn't see her face, the man's features were shadowed by the kerosene lamp that sit behind him. For some reason the woman was important, he didn't understand why, but Fraser wanted to run to her, to call out to her, to warn her, but he was afraid and so he remained hidden in the loft of the old barn, silent and still. He heard a loud noise that thundered in his ears and saw the woman drop.   
         Fraser awoke once again shaking. He glanced at his watch and sighed in frustration, he had only been asleep for about twenty minutes, despite how long the dream seemed. Already his conscious thoughts seemed to be scattering the details and soon e could only remember how it had scared him. He adjusted his position by turning on his side and closed his eyes again, he had to get some sleep. After many long minutes, after trying various methods to slow his breathing and fall back to sleep, he threw the covers back and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Diefenbaker whined at him, wondering why his own sleep was being disturbed, then rose to circle his spot at the foot of the bed a few times, before settling back into the exact same position and falling back to sleep.   
         Fraser rose from the bed and walked to the sink to splash his warm face with cool water, the winter air from outside drifted in through the partially opened window and helped cool the rest of him. He closed his eyes for a moment, he was so tired. He hadn't been able to get a full night sleep in almost three weeks and it was starting to take its toll on his body. He had become sluggish and unable to concentrate on the simplest things. At least it had finally started to turn cool the past couple of weeks that helped clear his mind much better than when he was battling the humid heat of Chicago in the summer.   
         He became aware of a particular scent and glanced toward his Mother's hope chest, peppermint again. He was smelling it a lot more often these days and he didn't understand if it was because of the memories the trunk had released inside of him or if it was his imagined wishful thinking to have his mother nearby. He approached the chest and settled beside it, popping the lock and puling up the lid. He ran his hands over the few items he had already examined, then his hand rested on Caroline's journal. Ray had said he should read it and Fraser didn't understand why he was so afraid to do so. Again the soft sweet smell of her favorite candy assailed his senses, of course Fraser attributed it to the contents of the trunk. Finally, with a trembling hand and a shaky breath he pulled the leather book out, released the strap and opened it to the first entry, which was dated March 23 1966.   
         ' _Bob has been gone almost two months now and I can't help feeling something is wrong. I have seen evidence of someone outside the cabin at least twice in the last week and I am worried that we may be in danger. God I hate it when Bob is gone so long, but at least I have my darling Benny with me, he is my joy and comfort. He is getting so very big and his artistic skills are simply amazing. I showed one of his drawings to Bob the last time he was home and he simply gushed about the wonderful job his son had done. I told him he needed to tell Benny that, to give him some praise, but Bob refused as always. Men don't talk about that sort of thing Caroline, he would say and I would have to repress the urge to hit him. Benny isn't a man yet, he's a boy who needs his father's love, but I can't seem to get that through to Bob. As much as I love him, I sometimes wonder if I had married Buck instead if he might not have made a better Father to our son, but then, I may not have had Benny without Bob. He has so much of his Father in him that it scares me. I see him trying to control his emotions, watch him steel himself against his Father's neglect and rebuttals or emotional outburst, when I really want him to just scream and cry and throw tantrums, like babies do. Benny idolizes Bob, I see it in his eyes and I can't help admit I am jealous. I lavish him with love, and occasionally I can wrestle a smile or a hug from him. Bob ignores him and he adores the man.'_   
         Fraser closed the book, an odd numbness overtaking him. He had known his Mother had not always been happy with his Father, she was not the type to hide her emotions when hurt or angry, but he never knew she was jealous of what he felt for his Father. He loved his Mother just as much, didn't he? The fact that he now questioned this rocked him. Had he preferred his Father to his Mother as a child, despite their differences in their treatment of him?   
         He was startled as a knock sounded at his door and he glanced up and saw the early morning's sunshine that now flooded his apartment. It was morning and he wasn't even dressed. He rose quickly and pulled on his jeans at least, over his boxers, then went to open the door and allow his partner inside. Ray smiled at him.   
         "Mornin' Benny." He greeted but his smile faded as he observed the haggard look on Fraser's face. "You like hell." He commented concerned, as he stepped inside the small-impoverished apartment and absently gave Diefenbaker, who finally hopped off the bed to greet him, a quick ruffle behind the ears.   
         "I haven't been sleeping well, Ray." Fraser admitted quietly, as he put the kettle on to boil. "Give me just a moment and I'll be ready."   
         "What's wrong, Fraser? Something on your mind?" Fraser shrugged and walked over to his closet to remove his brown tunic as Ray pulled down the only two cups from the cupboard and placed a tea bag in each. Fraser hadn't even inquired if Vecchio wanted tea, a surprising breech of edict for the usually impeccably mannered Canadian, which only proved that something was terribly wrong.   
         "I don't know, Ray." Fraser sighed, leaning against the closet wearily, Ray had never seen his partner so tired.   
         "When was the last time you slept, Benny?" Ray asked him concerned.   
         "I've been getting couple of hours here and there, but nothing solid for a couple of weeks now." Stated Fraser as the kettle whistled and Ray poured the steaming liquid into the cups, while Fraser pulled on his uniform.  Ray fixed their tea, knowing how Fraser preferred his, then adding five sugars and a generous helping of milk to his own cup; the herbal tea not a general favorite of his but he would share a cup with Fraser occasionally. Ray settled at the table  and waited for Fraser to sit opposite him and waited for the Mountie to continue, which he did a moment later. "Every time I try to sleep, the moment I doze off I'm besotted by these terrible dreams Ray though I can never remember what they are, and when I wake up I had actually only been asleep a few minutes each time."   
         "What do you think might be causing them?" asked Ray, taking a sip of his tea and making a face, it tasted like very sweet hay stalks.   
         "I've thought about that." Admitted Fraser sipping his own tea, with obviously more enjoyment. "I have had dreams before of course, nightmares even." Especially after loosing his Father and when Victoria left and his partner had shot him in the back. "But I could always remember them and could attribute them to something, but these dreams are..." he paused searching for the right word and Ray thought he saw a trace of fear flash across the usually passive face of his friend. "These are very different, Ray. I can't ever remember them, but I wake up and I feel...terrified for an instant and then it's gone."   
         "You need to get some sleep, Benny." Ray stated. "Maybe if you could stay asleep longer then you would remember what the dreams are."   
         "But I can't stay asleep, Ray." Insisted Fraser. "I have tried every possible method I know to induce a longer sleep, but it's the same each time, asleep for just a few minutes and each time I have those dreams that I can't remember."   
         "What about sleeping pills?" suggested Ray quietly. "I know you don't like the idea of chemical...."   
         "No, Ray." Refused Fraser, who didn't even like to take aspirin for a headache. "My body isn't used to those type of stimulants and it may have an adverse effect." He remembered his time in the hospital after he'd been shot in the back, they had given him a standard painkiller, but it had left him feeling dopes up and blurry eyed for days afterwards.   
         "I've got a friend you could talk to." Offered Ray. "She...she helped me with...after my divorce."   
        "A psychiatrist Ray?'   
         "Yah, but if that freaks you out I understand, I mean I didn't want to go to her either at first, but she was pretty good."   
         "That would be fine, Ray." Agreed Fraser almost relieved. "Could you make me an appointment with her?" Ray smiled, glad for once that he was able to help his partner, instead of Fraser helping him out, which was usually the case.   
         "Sure, Benny." He assured. "I'll call her right now." He pulled out his cell phone.   
         "You don't have to do it today, Ray." Protested Fraser, sounding suddenly hesitant.   
         "The sooner the better, Fraser." Ray reminded and dialed the number. He spoke to her only briefly, Fraser could tell they shared a kind of camaraderie, then Ray hung up." She had two cancellations today and she can see you in thirty minutes."   
         "So soon?' asked Fraser, rising to his feet suddenly. "But I have to go to work and..."   
         "Call the dragon lady and tell her you have an appointment."   
         "Ray, I can't!" exclaimed Fraser aghast. Without the proper notice and channels, to just take the time off? He'd had to do that I a few times in the past and Inspector Thatcher had been less than thrilled. He'd already used some of his vacation time to work on the undercover case at the college, he didn't think Thatcher would approve more time off so soon." Ray shook his head as he rose and offered the phone to Fraser.   
         "You've got sick time, I'm sure" Ray insisted, knowing the Mountie was never sick.      "Take a sick day."   
         "I..I don't think Inspector Thatcher..." began Fraser, but Ray cut him off.   
         "Look, Fraser. You need sleep and in order to get that you have to figure out what is wrong. To do that you need to talk to Betty, now call Thatcher and take a sick day or I'll call and tell her myself." Fraser gazed at his partner thoughtfully, knowing his friend. Ray rarely got fired up about something, but when he did he remained stubborn until he got his way, though usually Fraser could cajole him, even manipulate him into changing his perspective most of the time, he knew his partner well enough to know Ray would not be turned on this issue. He reached for the phone. 

         "It's nice to meet you Constable Fraser." Greeted the tiny, slim brunette that stood and extended her hand as Ray and Fraser entered the comfortably spacious office. Fraser determined that she couldn't be more than five foot, which made himself and Ray practically towered over her, but she had a kind face that seemed only enhanced by the dark round glasses she wore. Fraser shook her hand politely, noticing how her tiny palm was practically swallowed up by his larger one. "Ray has told me a lot about you, he thinks the world of you I'm afraid." The idea that Ray spoke so highly of him to someone whom Ray obviously considered a close friend both embarrassed and touched Fraser.   
         "It's a pleasure to meet you Miss. Chandler." He offered quietly, wishing suddenly that he had hadn't changed, as Ray had suggested, into his street clothes for the meeting, he felt less vulnerable in his uniform.   
         "Call me Betty." She encouraged as Ray smiled and offered her an affectionate greeting kiss. "Hi, Ray."   
         "Hey, Betty." He smiled. "Be gentle with him, it's his first time." Fraser blushed at his partner's teasing, but Betty only laughed. "I'll wait outside."   
         "No!" refused Fraser suddenly and Ray paused at the door to look back surprised. Fraser blushed again and lowered his eyes to the Stetson that was gripped firmly between his nervous fingers. "I..I'd like you to stay, please Ray." Ray witnessed the vulnerable and surprising fear in his friend's eyes, then he turned to Betty and received her approval.   
         "Sure, Benny." He agreed, easily as he closed the door and walked over to stand next to Fraser. Fraser glanced at the  tasteful, floral three piece chair and love seat in the center of the room by the large window, which offered a spectacular view, the small desk and computer over in one corner, another sitting area, with high back leather chairs and matching chaise, closer to that and the bright, airy wallpaper done in gold's and blues that adorned the walls. It didn't look like a Doctor's office, he thought absently.   
         "Which area would you prefer, Benton?" Betty was asking him and he focused his attention on her. "Is it alright if I call you that?" He nodded, then realized she was speaking of the two sitting areas. "That one over there is my somber, no nonsense forum." She indicated the one closest to the desk. "This one is the cheerful one, more popular by far, but some people just can't get into the spirit of seeing a shrink unless they're surrounded by leather and foreboding lighting." Fraser smiled, he liked this woman, and he could see why Ray recommended her.   
        "Here is fine." He replied moving toward the first set, waiting until she had settled opposite him in the deep easy chair to take his place on the loveseat. Ray sat next to him, but far enough away that he wouldn't seem as much a part of the session.   
         "Now," began Betty seriously. "Ray tells me you've been having terrible dreams that are keeping you awake, Benton."   
         "I don't know if they are really terrible or not, I've no idea what they are, really." Admitted Fraser reluctantly.   
         "Well, is it your goal to simply remember the dreams, or to just get some sleep?"   
 she asked. "Because if sleep is all you need I can offer you medication or enter a post hypnotic suggestion that will help keep you asleep."   
         "Fraser doesn't touch any kind of drugs, Betty.' offered Ray quietly and she nodded.   
         "Alright then,' she accepted easily. 'Would you like to try hypnosis then, perhaps while you are under you can remember the dreams themselves."   
         "I'm only asleep for a few minutes," stated Fraser. "But the dreams seem longer, though I can't remember them. I believe if I could just remember the dreams I could analyze them." Betty nodded and instructed him to get comfortable, noticing his rigid posture.   
         "I'm quite comfortable, thank you kindly." Assured Fraser and Betty exchanged a questioning look with Ray, whose own look told her to let it go; he rarely saw the Mountie in anything but a rigid posture.   
         "Okay." She allowed. "I'm going to put you to sleep, Benton, but since we don't know what these dreams are yet, if they become too frightening for you I want you to say the word..." she thought for a moment. "Horse." She watched a small smile pull at the corners of the Canadian's mouth and he nodded, as she turned to Ray. "Now you have to remain absolutely silent, Ray. We can't interfere in anyway with what we might see," The detective nodded and she started speaking quietly to Fraser, her tone mellowing, his eyes growing heavy as she wound for him the spell that would put him to sleep. His head dipped and his eyes closed as his breathing slowed. Betty had Ray help her to lay the Canadian back on the sofa, pulling his legs up so he could stretch out, he had not moved, but already Ray could see the tell tale sign of rem-sleep darting across his eyelids.   
  

         The shadowed man strolled from the house, a long, thick looking instrument in his hand, a bag over the opposite shoulder. He was whistling a tune Fraser didn't recognize, as he slipped on the runners of his sled and he and his dogs headed across the blinding snow, leaving a powdered flurry behind them.   
         Fraser finally climbed down from his hiding place and ran toward the house. When he got inside he hurried across toward the window that had been his view port. He saw her body laying there, saw the dark liquid that was slowly crawling across the floor beside her, her face was turned away from him, as she was laying on her side. His head tilted curiously, wondering why she would sleep on the floor so early in the day, when there was a perfectly good bed just a few feet away from her. The air was scented with a sweet smell, one that was both familiar and unrecognizable to him. Another smell soon prevailed over the first, a distasteful putrid smell and as he felt a wetness between his legs; he  realized he had wet himself. He approached the woman, coming to kneel beside her, unaware of the dark red liquid that spoiled his jeans as he sit beside her.   
         A shadow approached him and he didn't have time to react as something was coiled around his throat. He gasped, fighting for breath, but his assailant just puled harder and he heard a hysterical laugh echoing through the cabin and he realized it was his voice. Ray! Ray help me! He detected the scent of Channel and his head was tilting further back the tighter there cord gripped around his neck and he saw the flash of dark hair, rose lips and dangling gold earrings. Victoria! Ray! Help me! She's come back Ray, don't let her take me.   
        Somewhere, in the recess of his mind he remembered a word, a word that would put an end to the nightmare, a word that would end his suffering and stop his screaming. He spoke the word and a moment later he found himself staring up at two very concerned faces.   
         "R..Ray?' he asked, his eyes weren't properly focused but he suspected that his partner was one of the people that hovered over him,   
         "I'm here, Benny." Ray Vecchio assured gently, though even in his dazed state Fraser could hear the distress in the Italian's voice. Fraser started to sit up, with Ray's help, as he realized he was lying down, and his hand rose to brush across his cheek, noticing that his face was quite wet. Betty waited until he was fully alert, then asked him about the dream and he told her what he remembered, which was really only scattered images now.   
         "There was a man and I was hiding from him I think. It was at the cabin in Fort Nelson." He took a deep breath, willing himself to remember. "There was...I think there was a woman on the floor. She was lying on her side, away from me and I..I think she was dead." He glanced at Ray, who was watching him intently. Dear Ray, his friend, who looked so worried about him, who probably suspected what Fraser did; that he was losing his mind. "I was being strangled by Victoria and calling for you, Ray." Ray nodded, he had heard his partner's terrified screams and Betty had not allowed him to wake the Canadian, to rescue his friend from the nightmare. So he was forced to watch helplessly as Fraser gasped for breath and cried out for him, watched the horror that passed over his face and the manic laughter that had tore from his throat, unable to do anything to help. When Fraser had finally said the word 'horse' he had been so relieved he'd felt his entire body deflate from the tension it had been straining against, as Betty pulled him out of the hypnotic sleep quickly.   
         "Was it maybe an old case, Benny?" suggested Ray, the idea that Fraser had seen a woman murdered and not remembered it was strange indeed.   
         "I..I don't think so, Ray." He denied. "My memories as an officer are all very clear."   
         "Tell me what you think it was, Benton." Requested Betty.   
         "I..I don't know." Admitted Fraser frustrated.   
         "Well, you did have a close call with strangulation just a few weeks ago, Fraser." Reminded Ray suddenly. "With Andrew Keller and he had dressed like a woman so maybe that's why your assailant in the dream was a woman."   
         "But why Victoria, Ray?" inquired Fraser confused and Ray shot him an exasperated look.   
         "Do you really have to ask?" he replied, remembering what the woman had put his partner through. Fraser shook his head.   
         "I haven't dreamed of her in months." Stated Fraser, his voice sounding calmer and more it's usual passive tone, the more he talked, and Ray suspected the Mountie was subconsciously shutting down and putting up the barriers that so often seemed to protect him form emotional harm. "Perhaps it is as you said and it's just remnants of that case."   
         "Benny I didn't mean to just forget about it." Insisted Ray restrained. "That's just one possibility. We have to figure this out." It was a lost cause, Fraser had already dismissed the event and was standing, ready to go. Ray and Betty rose with him.   
         "Thank you kindly for your assistance." He offered the Psychiatrist. "I believe now that I understand the dreams they won't bother me as much."   
         "As Ray said, Benton." Began Betty, seeing the worried look on Vecchio's face. "That is only one possibility. I think we need to explore this more and.." Ray was shocked when Fraser, his impeccably polite partner, actually interrupted the woman.   
         "If I have any further problems I will contact you." He assured offering his hand. Betty exchanged a quick glance with the detective than shook Fraser's hand resigned.   
         "I'll meet you outside in a minute, Fraser." Informed Ray quietly. "I need to talk to Betty real quick." Fraser nodded calmly.   
         "Certainly, Ray." He agreed amiably as he placed his Stetson on his head and offered a sincere farewell to the Doctor. Once the door was closed, Betty immediately placed a soothing hand on Ray's arm, sensing the sometimes volatile Italian was ready to explode.   
         "He's lying!" he finally exclaimed throwing his hands out expressively. "He's not telling us everything, he can't be. I can't believe he's having nightmares over this last case, we've been through much worse cases and he has never had nightmares about them."   
         "How do you know that for sure, Ray?" inquired Betty gently. "Would he have told you if he had?" Ray paused and lowered his head defeated. The truth was Fraser rarely told him when something bothered him, unless Ray literally dragged it out of him, and that hurt. He was Benny's friend, probably the closest person to the Mountie, yet Fraser still held so much back from him.   
         "I don't." he admitted quietly, his sudden anger deflating like a slow leaking balloon, his posture relaxed and his flashing eyes calmed. He ran a hand over the back of his neck. "I don't know, Betty. Sometimes he scares me. He keeps so much to himself, maybe it's all staring to backfire, maybe he's ready to break."   
        "Do you think that's what's happening?" she asked and he glared at her.   
        "Don't use the psyche routine on me, Betts," he warned. "If I knew what was going on I wouldn't have brought him here."   
         "Maybe he just needs a rest, a vacation." She suggested.   
         "Ha!" barked Ray wryly. "You'd have a better chance of getting' Nixon re-elected to the presidency." Betty smiled, Ray always became sarcastic when he felt out of control or couldn't understand a situation.   
         "Well, " she sighed. "Just keep n eye on him and if you feel he is getting worse, bring him back." Ray nodded and gave her  quick hug.   
         "Thanks, Betty." He replied. "I'll call you later." She nodded and watched him leave. He was certainly a  complex character, that Ray Vecchio, she had thought so the very first time he had stormed into her office and thrown his file down on her desk, grumbling about his supervisor thinking he was a nut she needed to crack simply because he was a little testy after his divorce. Testy wasn't the word for it, Vecchio had become almost suicidal, taking risks that should never have been taken in the line of duty, throwing himself into his work and growling at, if not physically attacking, his co-workers and collars at a furious rate. He had of course calmed down, once she assured him that she wasn't going to lock him in a rubber room or ask him how he felt about the world's problems in general. When he had partnered with Fraser, at first Ray had informed her he was a do-gooder super-hero Canadian that had mush for brains, but as their relationship grew, so did her respect for the Mountie, threw Ray's disruptions of him. She knew the detective loved and respected his partner, and she hoped that would be enough to get Fraser through whatever was bothering him now. 

         "Hey Benny!" called Ray Vecchio, hopping out of his prized 197i Buick Riviera, his third in the time he had known the Mountie, and leaned against it as Fraser stared straight ahead. He glanced at his watch. "Five, four, three..." the city clock chimed on the hour and Fraser came out of his revere.   
         "Hello, Ray." He greeted warmly, as Vecchio shook his wrist, damned watch was still running fast.   
         "Let's go," he insisted rounding to the driver's side again as Fraser opened the passenger side door and pulled back the set for Diefenbaker to slip in the back. "I gotta pick up the wine fer Ma's party." Fraser nodded and settled into his seat, placing his Stetson on the dash in front of him.   
         "Do we have time to stop at my apartment, Ray?" he asked politely, as Vecchio pulled out into traffic.   
         "Sure, Benny." The Italian agreed amiably, as Fraser watched the speedometer needle climb well beyond the legal limit. "You wanna change?"   
         "Yes, Please." Replied Fraser, gripping the seat slightly as Vecchio swerved into the other lane without signaling. "I also need to pick up your Mother's gift." Ray nodded.   
         "I just hope Frannie keeps her out long enough fer us to get everything set up." He sighed. "She has a hard time rememebrin' instructions."   
         "I'm sure Francesca will do fine, Ray." Countered Fraser, always willing to jump to the defense of the sometimes addle brained woman that was his best friend's sister; Ray was always too hard on her. "After all, I am sure she wants this surprise party for your mother to go well and she has the cover of taking Mrs. Vecchio out for Mother's Day because you told her you had to work."   
         "Yah, yah." Agreed Ray reluctantly, as he sped up to get under a yellow light before it turned red. "I just don't want this to get screwed up fer, Ma, y'know?" Fraser nodded, he knew Ray and the other members of his family had been working hard to make this surprise dinner for their mother a success.   
         "I know, Ray." He acknowledged gently and Ray smiled at him. He cared deeply for Mrs. Vecchio, who treated him like a long lost son, and he wanted everything to go well too.   
         At Fraser's apartment, Ray waited patiently as Fraser quickly changed out of his red serge uniform and into his best pair of jeans and a dress shirt. Ray had told them it would be casual, but he still wanted to look nice.  The Canadian did look better than he had  few days before, though occasionally he could still see signs of exhaustion or worry in the Mounties's face. Fraser was pulling on his boots when Ray asked.   
         "So, anymore dreams, Benny?" Fraser glanced at him surprised and Ray caught just a hint of guilt in the deep blue eyes before Fraser lowered them to finish tying his boots.   
         "I've been fine, Ray." He replied and ray knew he was lying, not a direct lie of course, more of an evasion.   
         "That's good." Offered ray, allowing the half-truth to slide. "Bring some extra clothes though, Ma want's you to spend the weekend with us." That was a lie as well, although the large Italian woman would no doubt be thrilled to have Fraser stay for a visit, she hadn't actually requested he stay over, that was Ray's idea so he could see if his partner was sleeping better.   
         "Of course Ray." Fraser greed, throwing few necessities into a small knapsack. "That was very nice of your Mother to offer." Ray reminded himself to explain to his Mother later, he was just glad he'd convinced Fraser to stay, although his partner had not yet refused Mrs. Vecchio anything.   
         "You never did tell me why you think you killed yer mother, Benny." Fraser paused, his fingers still holding the  neatly folded shirt he had been stuffing into the bag, as he raised his head and stared at his friend surprised.   
         "Where did that come from?" he asked puzzled. Ray shrugged.   
         "I've been thinkin' about it today, guess cause it's Mother's Day tomorrow." Fraser nodded and fastened the knapsack. "Are ya gonna answer me, Benny?"   
         "I prefer not to, Ray." He replied quietly, standing and retrieving his leather jacket. Ray wandered over to glance at the pictures on Fraser's small bureau. He picked up the one of Robert and Caroline Fraser.   
         "I think you should, anyway, Benny." He commented calmly. "I need to understand why you feel that way." Fraser caressed his right eyebrow, staring at him for a moment, then took the picture from him and placed it back on the bureau.   
         "It's...difficult to explain, Ray." He muttered. "I...another time, okay. Today is special, let's not spoil it with my problems." Ray watched him for a long time and Fraser suspected the detective was going to argue, but then he shrugged and moved toward the door.   
         "Have it yer way, Benny." He allowed as Fraser and Dief followed him out.   
  

         "He's too old to be dragging this around any longer, Caroline." Insisted Robert Fraser, shaking the small blue blanket in his fist, he still wore his Mountie uniform, for he had only arrived home less than an hour ago and had found his son, Benton sitting on the floor holding his treasured blanket, as he always did. Benton rose and launched himself toward his father, glad to see him home, only to have Robert Fraser snatched the blanket from him and insist he go to his room. Benton bit back his tears and ran for the small section of the cabin that held his small cot, bureau and a few toys and drawings.   
         "He's just a baby, Bob." Pleaded Caroline. "He'll grow out of it eventually, but right now it's his and he treasures it."   
         "No son of mine is going to grow up a wimp, Caroline." Determined Robert. "He's too old for such childishness. If he wants to lug something around, teach him to fetch wood for the fire or muck out the stables, for God's sake."   
         "He's just three years old!" admonished Caroline, knowing her small boy couldn't possibly complete such a chore at such a tender age.   
         "I've said all I'm going to say on the matter, Caroline." Stated Robert firmly as Benton heard the metallic click of the waist bin and he knew his Father had thrown his dear blanket away. He crawled onto his bed and cried, his pillow muffling his sobs.   
         A short time later, after he had cried himself to sleep, he awoke to the feel of a warm body pressed against his and the smell of peppermint. He opened his eyes and stared at the pretty face of his mother laying beside him, her long thick lashes spread out across her pale cheeks and her slim chest rising and falling in the gentle rhythm of sleep. He wrapped his tiny arm around her and snuggled into her chest. I love you, mum, he told her silently, and knowing she would hear his thoughts, for she always did. A small smile formed across her beautiful lips and her arm came up behind him to pull him closer. 

         Fraser awoke once again to darkness. He was an adult again, back in Chicago at Ray's house, and he felt like crying. The precious feel of his Mother's arms around him lingered, but was quickly fading away as he became fully awake. He sat up in his bed and wrapped his own arms around him, wishing he could get the feeling back, as the warmth and the love that he was craving, that she had always allowed him, was becoming a distant memory once more.   
         He glanced through the small window of the guestroom for a long moment, then slipped off his bed, mindful not to awaken the wolf that slept at the foot of it, and pulled on his jeans and shirt. He folded his mother's diary; he had been reading it before he had fallen asleep and was perhps the cause for his dream; and placed it carefully on the table beside the bed. It was still dark and he knew the rest of the Vecchio's would not be up yet, as he silently made his way downstairs to the kitchen. He put the kettle on and dropped into the kitchen chair, resting his head in his hands. The dreams of his mother were becoming more frequent and he sensed the discovery of her hope chest had triggered them.   
         "Benton?" inquired the soft voice of Mrs. Vecchio. Fraser bolted from his chair in surprise.   
        "I..I'm sorry.' He offered. "Did I wake you?" She shook hr head and smiled, gesturing him to take his seat as she walked over to the refrigerator.   
         "I could not sleep." She told him, removing a small bottle of juice and retrieving a glass from the cupboard. "I am still so excited from the party you all gave me." Fraser smiled, she had been very surprised when she and Francesca had arrived home to find the place decorated and a special dinner waiting for her in tribute to Mother's Day, and her surprise grew when Ray presented her with tickets for a Cruise to the Bahamas, that the family had chipped in for.   
         "I am glad you enjoyed it." Remarked Fraser as the kettle whistle and he poured himself a cup of tea, after offering her one. She shook her head and sipped her juice, waiting to speak until he had settled across from her at the table.   
         "You seem very sad, Benton." She observed, reaching her hand across to cover his. Fraser lowered his eyes and gently pulled his hand away to wrap around the warm cup. "Would you like to talk about it?" Now he knew where Ray got his curiosity, he thought.   
         "No thank you kindly," he declined. "But I am fine." Ma Vecchio watched him quietly for a moment, as though watching for special indicators that might give her some insight into his mind.   
         "Benton." She began gently and he dutifully raised his eyes to hers. "You have such a big heart and you are so kind to others, yet I see you care for so many people you do not know and not for those around you." Fraser' raised an eyebrow puzzled.   
         "I do care for..." he began but she gently cut him off.   
         "You hold your feelings back, Benton." She stated. "You do not let people get close to you, except for my Ray, and even he feels he does not know you well as he would like. My Francesca cares for you more than I think she needs to..." Fraser blushed and averted his eyes again. "But you are her choice then I will abide by that. However I do not think you feel the same for her, do you Benton?"   
         "I...I care about her, Ma." He managed. "I..I just...she is Ray's sister and I...."   
        "You are afraid Raimundo will be angry if you are having feelings for Francesca?" she inquired knowingly and Fraser nodded. "He is her brother, Benton and is protective of her, but you are your own man and Francesca her own woman. Do not let my stubborn son come between that." Fraser shook his head.   
         "It isn't....I can't...." he sighed, wishing he could just say what he was feeling like a normal person.  "I don't want her hurt."   
         "You will not hurt her, Benton." Insisted Mrs. Vecchio. "I know this, you are a gentle man, not like the one she married."   
         "I..I don't mean..." explained Fraser. "I would never physically hurt Francesca, I just....I can't have...." How could he say it? How did you tell someone that you were cursed and death followed all whom loved you or you loved. "I'm not...the guy for her."   
         "How do you know this?" asked Mrs. Vecchio. Because Ray said so, Fraser replied silently, remembering the scene between his partner and Francesca after Ray had thought she had slept with Fraser. He shook his head and sipped his tea, he didn't want to get into this heavy a discussion, but he couldn't be impolite to Mrs. Vecchio.   
         "I don't have much...luck with women." He finally said. "And I don't want that to overshadow Francesca."   
         "Perhaps your luck with change with my daughter?"   
         "No. I don't think it will, Ma." He replied quietly.   
        "Rainmundo is worried for you, Caro." she told him. "He says you are not sleeping well."   
        "I have been having some disturbing dreams, that's all." Fraser deflected. "I'm better now."   
        "And what is this I hear of you killing your Mama?" she asked quietly and Fraser's eye shot upwrd. His partner had a big mouth.  Mrs. Vecchio seemed ato know what he was thinking because she quickly said. "Do not be ngry with him, he is worried about you." Fraser lowered his eyes from hers. "Tell me why you think this, Benton."   
        "I..I couldn't protect her." he whispered, staring down at his tea, his knuckes turning white from the grip he had on the ceramic cup. "She loved me and so they took her from me and I couldn't stop it."   
        "Who took her from you, Benton?" pressed Mrs. Vecchio gently. "Only God descides who lives and dies, Caro. He made his decision because it was best, not to punish you."   
        "I know that." agreed Fraser simply. "I just...I feel like I was responsible. It seems everyone I...I get involved with dies."   
        He heard her rise and looked up, ready to stand politely, but as he did he was pulled into her embrace, her large arms encircling him and pressing him to her bosom.   
        "Not all, who love you, Benton." she whispered softly. "Rainmundo and the others, and I are still here and we love you and will not leave you. You are one of us now and you must allow us to show you this that we offer and accept it as truth without fear. I will not press, but you are like my own son and I would hope you could talk to me when you have troubles, yes?" Fraser let his guard down and allowed himself to return her embrace.   
         "I would like that." He whispered, enjoying the secure feel of her arms around him.   
         "You need a Mama, Benton." She insisted. "And though I am not your real Mother, I would be honored to be considered as her stand in." She smiled up at him, still holding on to his shoulders as though sensing he was ready to bolt. "I will have you fed so you do not grow skinny, I will treasure your time with me and my family, I will give you hugs and kisses whenever you need them and I will listen to your dreams and your fears and all of your hopes. For you I will do this because I love you and you love Raimundo, so for him you will let me do this, yes?" Fraser stared down at her, his eyes moist, the lump in his throat preventing him from speaking. "And I know this, Benton." She continued. "I know that your Mother loved you and wanted these things for you and wished you to be happy. She would not want you to hide your feelings or to shy away from the people who love you. You get your big heart from her, I think, and such a heart should not allow itself to go unused. Do you understand my dear?"   
          Fraser tried to swallow and managed to nod, sensing that had her arms not been gripping him so tightly, he may no longer be standing upright. No one had ever spoken to him so directly, with so much love and acceptance, not since....He felt a tear slide down his cheek and was shocked that he was crying. What was wrong with him. He was a Mountie. Mounties don't cry, yet this wonderful caring woman had managed to pull his grief from him by just a few simple words.   
         "I...I miss her." He whispered and felt her arms engulfing him once more, as his shoulder shook from the painful sobs that now racked his body. "I..I want my Mum back." He never got to say goodbye, never even got to see her one last time, never got to hear her sweet voice sing him to sleep again, never got to make her another card. Mrs. Vecchio held him tightly, allowing his grief to finally be released, as she whispered soothingly to him and caressed his hair.   
         "It's alright. Let it out my darling. Grieve for your Mama, it is right." Fraser did not know how she had guessed that he had never received closure over his Mother's death, but the fact that she had made his crying worse and he clung too her, half ashamed for his shocking behavior, half relieved to finally let go.   
         After a long while, Fraser had calmed somewhat and Mrs. Vecchio led him back upstairs. She convinced him to lay back down as she puled the heavy quilt over him and touched his tear stained cheeks. She bent forward and lightly kissed both sides of his face and offered him a gentle smile.   
         "Thank you." He whispered, feeling foolish, but unable to regret his loss of control.   
         "You will sleep now." She insisted softly. "In a few hours the sun will be up and everything will look much better in the light of day. If you want to talk some more, I will be here for you, my Benton." Fraser nodded and thanked her again. "I love you caro, you sleep now." Fraser allowed his eyes to drift shut with a shaky breath. He was asleep almost instantly, but Mrs. Vecchio remained at his side for a long time after, humming a quiet lullaby. When she finally rose to leave, Fraser wore a small smile in his sleep and she instructed the wolf to take watch over him.   
    
  

         "How's this, Frase?" Franchesca asked, reaching across the archway, from her position on the tall stepladder, to pin the twisted crepe paper to the wall above. Fraser turned from where he was setting out the party things on the table. As he looked upward, his gaze traveled over her slender calves and muscled thighs, that her incredibly high riding mini skirt allowed, to the tender pale flesh of her abdomen that, exposed by the blue half shirt she wore, that almost appeared a couple of sized too small, especially with it stretched across her breasts and inching higher due to her position.  E tore his gaze away from her quickly and finally rested his eyes on the decoration.   
          "That looks fine, Francesca." He returned politely watched her secure it. She put her heeled foot down to the next step and slipped, Fraser barely caught her. "Are you alright?" Her arms wrapped around his neck automatically.   
         "I am now." She purred against him and Fraser became distinctly aware of the soft warm flesh that his hands were now pressed against. He quickly set her on her feet and cleared his throat, nervously. Francesca leaned against him.   
         "I think I twisted my ankle." She stated and Fraser caught her small grimace of pain and instantly felt guilty for his thoughtlessness. He lifted her again and walked across the hall to settle her on the sofa. He knelt to examine her ankle, and sure enough it was starting to swell.   
         "I'm going to have to remove your sandal." He told her and she nodded. He carefully un-straped the shoe and ran his fingers once more over her ankle. "It looks like a sprain, you may have to go to the hospital, Francesca."   
         "I can't!" she insisted, "What about the party?"   
          "I am sure they will understand..." he began.   
         "No, I won't ruin the party, Ma wanted it to be good for Ray." They had found out Stanley's actual birth date from Welsh and the Vecchio's had decided to throw the blond detective, that was impersonating their son who was undercover in the mob, a private surprise party. So far, Kowalski had only celebrated the real ray Vecchio's birthday, and then he seemed hesitant to do so, so Fraser and the Vecchio's decided this would cheer him up.   
         "You will only injure it more if you keep using it, Francesca." Fraser told her.   
          "I'll stay off my feet and promise to go to the doctor tomorrow, okay." She offered. Fraser looked like he was about to argue. "Please, Frase?"   
         "As you wish." He conceded reluctantly, knowing how stubborn the woman could be at times so it would be useless to argue. He let her to remain sitting and finished up the decorations as Tony and Maria argued about something in the other room. He moved to the kitchen to retrieve one of the party platters from the refrigerator. The tray caught on a bottle of  pitcher of red juice, made up for the kids, and fell from the rack and spilled out onto the floor. Fraser quickly set the tray on the counter and pulled a roll of paper towels from the cupboard. He bent to wipe the spill and his hand froze as he was thrown back to another time. 

         "You must be more careful, Benton!" Caroline Fraser scolded, staring down at the small puddle of soup that had spilled over the hardwood floor from where Ben had accidentally knocked his bowl over. "Get some towels and clean it up, hurry." Ben slipped from the hardback wooden chair at the small kitchen table and retrieved a handful of towels. He hurried back and knelt to wipe up the mess, only to have his Mother grab him up a moment later.   
         "I'm not finished." He protested, knowing the soup might stain the wood if he didn't get it up quickly, but his Mother was pushing him over to the closet, a fearful but determined look in her eye.   
         "Stay in there." She ordered, closing the door tightly and speaking threw the wood from the other side. "Don't come out until I tell you." Ben trembled, his Mother was frightened and he wanted to know why. He heard a loud thumping sound and cracked the closet door just enough that he could see. At first he could only hear the thudding noise, then a low vicious growl echoed through the cabin and Ben shivered. He knew that sound, that was a bear growl and he feared for his Mother, while wondering how a bear had gotten into their cabin. Then he realized he must have left the back door open, when his Mother had called him in for lunch. He knew he was never to do that, there were to many wild animals around their area, yet he had forgotten to close it and now there was a bear in their cabin, with his Mother.   
         The fear that his Mother could be hurt was too much for him and he stepped out of the closet to go in search of her. He found hr near the front door, backing up from the advancing beast and he quickly grabbed up his food bowl and threw it at the animal, competing for it's attention an trying to draw it away from his precious Mother.   
         "Don't move, Benny!" Caroline warned horrified as she watched the bear advance on her small child. She knew if the boy showed his fear and turned to run the animal would attack instantly. "Back away slowly, don't turn your back from him." Ben listened to his Mother and stepped back, inch by inch, until the bear decided he was no threat and returned it's attention to the woman, who was sliding across the wall in an attempt to reach the rifle that hung over the fireplace. The bear growled menacingly and charged her as she reached above hr for the weapon and she screamed as it's paw slapped violently against her arm, throwing her to the floor.   
         "MUM!" Ben screamed in terror, afraid the animal would now eat his disabled mother. The beast turned and he was suddenly face to face with the largest black bear he had ever seen. It reared up on it's hind legs and released an ear shattering roar, his powerful jaws working ferociously as he considered the small boy for his next meal. Ben started backing away from it again as it advanced toward him, his fear getting the better of him as he darted between the small crevice of the refrigerator and the countertop. The area was small but deep and the bear couldn't fit inside, but he was trying to reach the boy with it's powerful claws, which came just centimeters from Ben's quivering body each time. Ben screamed, as one claw managed to tear through his sweater and scratch the soft flesh of his belly, then there was a loud explosion in his ears and his senses were assailed by the heavy smells of gun powder and burnt fur. The bear roared and dropped, revealing a shaking Caroline Fraser lowering the rifle she held to the floor.Ben squirmed from his hiding place and ran to her, throwing his arms around her neck as she dropped to the floor. He was surprised when she landed three hard slaps against his bottom and shook him, before pulling him into her arms again.   
         "I told you to stay put!" she cried, her fear and anxiety finally released into tears of relief. "Don't you ever disobey me again or I'll beat you within an inch of your life, understand?" Ben wiped at the tears on his face and hugged his Mother hard.   
         "Understood." He whimpered, uncaring that she had punished him, just happy that she was safe. 

         "Fraser?" inquired Maria from the doorway of the kitchen. Fraser's eyes shot upwards as he came back to reality and Maria noticed the spill on the floor. "Do you need some help?" Fraser glanced down and quickly cleaned up the mess.   
         "I've got it.' He assured, standing to drop the soiled towels in the trash.   
         "Ray and Ma are on their way, they should be here in a few minutes." She informed taking the tray of meats and cheeses from the counter and going out. Fraser rinsed his hands, Ma had convinced Kowalski to take her shopping and he was sure the detective suspected nothing about his party. He would be surprised when they all jumped out at him upon arrival. Quickly Fraser followed Marie out to prepare.   
  

         "Your Mother was a pretty woman, Benton." Taunted Muldoon, as Fraser and Thatcher watched him cautiously from their mobile position on the Ferris wheel. "But when I shot her, she dropped, like a big ol' sack a' potatoes." Fraser steeled himself against the fury that mounted inside him. He had a job to do, innocent lives were at stake. But soon, soon he would apprehend Muldoon. Soon he would make him pay. He wasn't really listening to the rest of what the man was saying, but a moment later Muldoon attached the dangerous gas to the Ferris wheel and it was up to him and Inspector Thatcher to diffuse it.   
         Muldoon had gotten of and was running across the ground bellow, when Fraser had the chance to look for him. He saw the man had a gun pointed at him, yet when he heard the shot fires he felt nothing; that's when he saw Ray Vecchio go down. He had taken the bullet for him. He stared at him shocked, then felt his head drop down, fear that he had lost his friend rendering him immobile, guilt kept him silent. 

        He saw her body laying there, saw the dark liquid that was slowly crawling across the floor beside her, her face was turned away from him, as she was laying on her side. He should have stayed where he was, she would be angry that he had disobeyed her again. His head tilted curiously, wondering why she would sleep on the floor so early in the day, when there was a perfectly good bed just a few feet away from her. The air was scented with a sweet smell, one that was both familiar and unrecognizable to him. Another smell soon prevailed over the first, a distasteful putrid smell and as he felt a wetness between his legs; he realized he had wet himself. He approached the woman, coming to kneel beside her, unaware of the dark red liquid that spoiled his jeans as he sit beside her.   
         He shook her gently, trying to wake her, but she remained sleeping, so he decided he would lay with her. He stretched out against her, throwing his small arm across her waist and started humming a lullaby the lady had taught him. He rocked her gently as he started to sing the words, until the movement pulled her closer against him and the force of her larger body was propelled on to her back, with his tiny arm and leg pinned under her. He stared down at the her face and screamed and screamed and couldn't stop screaming, while he struggled to get out from under her.   
         "Mum!" Fraser cried bolting upright on the bedroll beside Thatcher, the warm glow of the lantern kept the small tent both warm and well lit, the afterglow of the lovemaking still evident on her pale skin.  His cry hadn't awoke her and he found himself staring down at her longingly. He shouldn't have done it, but how could he regret it? Margaret could not live in his world and she wouldn't ask him to live in hers. It was a mutual decision, something they both longed for, and something he was sure he would treasure for a long time to come. He had finally gained her acceptance, her love, and they were parting. Would he never hold a life time relationship with someone he loved? Would they forever be ripped from him, either from death or some other circumstance?   
         He gently moved away, careful not to wake her and quickly dressed. He needed some air, his dream still painfully evident in his mind. He quietly blew out her lantern, to prevent a possibly fire hazard, and slipped from the tent, securing it tightly once outside to prevent the cold from reaching her. He wandered away from the campsite, his eyes adjusting to the darkness easily, his body used to the frigid temperature.   
         Tomorrow they would find Muldoon, he was sure of it. The man who had drove his Father to attempted murder. The man who killed his beloved Mother and claimed she dropped from the gunshot like a sack of potatoes. Fraser had seen that murder, but had apparently blocked the memory from his mind. He had never been able to remember that day, or the days following clearly, but now they memories flooded back with agonizingly accuracy.   
         His Mother had told him to go to the barn and to stay there until someone came for him. He hadn't understood what was wrong, or whom it was that had driven up to their cabin on a snowmobile. They so rarely had visitors he was curious, but his Mother insisted he go and so he had, pulling on his boots and coat his Mother practically threw at him as she rushed him to the back door. When he had seen his Mother's body drop to the floor, he waited until her assailant had left and then hurried inside, despite his Mother's orders to wait for someone to retrieve him. Somehow, he knew she would not be coming for him and it was this knowledge that made him go to her. He had found her lying in a pool of her own blood and she was cold, so he lay next to her to warm her, but then her body had rolled and he saw the vacant look in her beautiful eyes and he screamed for the loss of his Mother. He had pulled himself out from under her and ran back to the barn, where he eventually slept on and off for the next three days until his Father had found him.  He had always believed it was his Grandmother, Martha, who had taken him away, but it was Bob Fraser who found his six year old son, half frozen, starved and in shock in the loft of the barn. His Father who had gathered him into his arms, murmuring such tender words of endearments that it hardly seemed to be Robert Fraser at all. He told his son to fight, told him he couldn't loose him to and carried him the twenty-three kilometers to Martha and George's mobile shelter. Cried as Martha opened the door to her cabin and welcomed the frozen pair inside, then kissed his son goodbye as he went after his wife's killer, vowing to avenge the death of the woman he loved and the man who took Benton's Mother away from him.   
          The man who had shot Ray Vecchio and had tried to kill Fraser and Ray Kowalski. The man who thought he was above the law, above morals, above everything decent. There was one thing he was not above, and that was Fraser's wrath. Although his sense of duty and moral code would no doubt prevent him from actually killing the man, it did not mean he didn't want to and he understood the rage that had driven his own Father to attempt it. He was a Mountie. He would capture Muldoon, regardless of what it might personally cost him. He owed it to Ray, to his Father and mostly to his dear Mother, who he realized meant everything to him, who Muldoon had shot down in cold blood. The injustice of it seared through Fraser, the fact that his Father had never told him the truth increased his anger.   
         He glanced down and realized he was shaking, but he couldn't stop. He wanted his Father to be alive again. He wanted Ray Vecchio and Ray Kowalski as his friends and his partners. He wanted Margaret to stay with him and be happy. He wanted to tell Francesca how he felt about her. He wanted to be like everyone else, and not stand out so badly. He wanted Muldoon, more than anything he wanted to feel his hands around the man's throat and squeeze the life from him, until it brought his Mother back to him. His body was so tight from his uncontrolled tremors, his breathing came in gasps as though he could no longer get enough air and his blood pounded in his ears. He could no longer hold it back. He released an anguished scream across the quiet night sky, a scream that vibrated in his ears and caused the sled dogs to howl. A scream that shook the people in the camp awake in their tents, and a scream that sent a shiver through Holloway Muldoon, who was camped many miles away.   
    
  

         Fraser stared at the now prone body of Muldoon, shocked that his Father had been able to cause a physical blow to his live nemesis. Robert Fraser raised his bruised hand to examine it.   
         "I don't know why anyone does that." He commented. "Lord it hurts." Fraser had the beginnings of a smile forming on his lips, but as he looked down at his Father's hand and then gazed over the rest of his Father's form he frowned. Robert noticed his Son's sudden appraisal. "What?"   
         "You're fading." Fraser finally remarked quietly, his expression for once showed all to well his concern.   
         "I've solved my last case." Robert explained simply, unable to look directly into his son's saddening eyes. "I caught my last man. There's no reason to hang around." Fraser's lower lip quivered slightly, as he continued to stare forlornly at his father, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. I don't want you to go! He wanted to scream. How can you leave me now? All the times I was aggravated and didn't want you around and now that I need you most you're leaving?   
         "It's just I..ah..thought you were permanent." He managed, uncaring of the telltale tremor in his voice.   
         "Oh, son," sighed Robert Fraser. "Nothing's permanent." Fraser nodded, his lips trying to form a smile for his Father's sake, but the effort he was exuding to keep from crying made his lips stiff and unyielding. Robert Fraser looked then, straight into his Son's shimmering blue eyes, and seemed on the verge of saying something, when a soft glow seemed to illuminate the darkened corner of the mine shaft. He glanced over and almost wept himself.   
         "Caroline." He said in disbelief, as Fraser turned to look at the shining angel, dressed in traditional leather and fur native gear, walked toward them.   
         "Mum." He almost whispered, his threat of control slipping enough too make his voice crack under the strain. She paused before him, reached up and pushed a stray lock of his hair away from his face, staring at him lovingly. He wanted to throw his arms around her, to hold her and never let her go, to tell all the things he longed to say, yet his voice had left him and fear that movement on his part would cause her to disappear kept him still. She smiled and turned to her husband, who also seemed at a loss for words. Fraser watched them walk toward the light Caroline had entered from, she turned back slightly to give him a long, loving look, then continued on with her husband, both his parents disappearing softly into whatever new life they had earned, as darkness sheltered the mineshaft once more. Fraser lifted a shaky hand to touch the spot his Mother's fingers had caressed and he finally allowed his tears to fall, as he whispered goodbye. 

    Fraser swept away the snow from the small round picture and traced his Mother's face with his fingers. He did miss her, he missed  his Dad too, but knowing they were finally together hlped eliviate his sense of loss. There was so much he wanted to tell her, so much he longed to say and never would be able to. He smiled slightly and for a moment he thought he smelled peppermint again, as he reached inside his jacket and removed her diary, with the last card he had made her tucked inside. He made a place for it beside the tall headstone, it was wrapped in plastic to prevent the moisture from getting inside.   
        "Happy Mother's Day, Mum." he whispered kising the hedstone gently. He rose and glanced back at his partner Ray Kowaski, who waited patiently a few feet away by the sled. They were returning to Chicago in a few days and there was still much Fraser had to do, now that he had the strength to really start living.   
  

          Benton Fraser opened the last sealed box and pulled out a large blue, fur lined parka that he recognized as the one he had worn while tracking Muldoon in Canada. He tossed it toward the small chaise, then glanced back as a long white envelope slipped from the pocket and floated to the floor. He bent and picked up the letter, curious. His name was etched across it in a bold masculine handwriting. The letter Buck Frobisher had given him, the morning they set out from camp to capture Muldoon, he hadn't the time to read it then and Sgt. Frobisher told him he could wait and save it for later, so he hadn't deemed it important. He'd forgotten all about it. He broke the seal and pulled out the few pages inside, the very first line capturing his attention and sending a flood of emotions through him.   
  _'Dear Son,_   
_I have asked Buck to lend me his hands at this time, so I could write this letter to you, to say the things I couldn't say when I was alive or even in death. Tomorrow we go after Muldoon and I probably won't be thinking clearly enough to warn you against the rage that I know you are holding inside. Don't let it destroy your principles, or interfere with your duty, like I did. I let my anger consume me and I wanted Muldoon dead for what he had done to your mother, even tried to kill him myself thought I had succeeded. I suspect my guilt over what I tried to do is part of what has held me to you all this time and I believe a resolution to my plight may be near, in which case I may not get to stay with you, Son._   
_I am sorry I never had the courage to tell you what happened to your Mother, but I think I was scared you would blame me for not protecting her, and I couldn't bare it if you had looked at me with such disappointment and anger. It was the coward's way out, I know, but it seems that was my only way out, when it came to emotions and the like. I blame myself for not being there, Benton, for not showing her the love she deserved while she was alive, and I suspect you hold yourself responsible as well for her death. You were a child, Son. There was nothing you could have done to save her, but I know your habit of taking on everyone else's burden and letting guilt eat at your insides. Forgive yourself Ben; don't carry it around like I did, even beyond the grave. Let it go._   
_I am aware that I was a disappointment to you and your Mother, that I wasn't there emotionally for either of you, not as I should have been, but in my day men simply didn't express themselves that way, it wasn't done. I took my duty as a Mountie and to my family seriously, Ben, you have to believe that, but I didn't know how to change the man I was. And you were so damned smart, Son, much more than your old man ever was and so curious about everything and you had your Mother's heart, so you craved affection so much that you sometimes scared me. You were walking at eight months, forming complete sentences in a year and your Mother taught you to read and write at only three. You were amazing. Perhaps that was one reason I stayed away so much, I didn't know how to react to you, or perhaps I was afraid you would model yourself after me as you grew up and I didn't want that. I didn't want to steel your fire, Ben, to make you into an emotional cripple like me, but my plan backfired and you became more like me than was conformable._   
_Then, when you joined the RCMP, I was so proud of you, for following in the footsteps of your father, yet at the same time I wanted to shake some sense into you. You could be so much more, a famous scientist or professor, but you had chosen your path and it was a noble one indeed. At first I worried about you, sensing your heart would get in the way of your duty, for you always had an abundance of affection for people, whether you knew them or not. But you proved me wrong, Son, and I am glad. You surpassed my expectations and finally got out from under my shadow._   
_When my own colleagues, people I had worked for years, practically threw you out for turning in Gerard, I was furious. But then you met the yank and I think he was good for you, you had needed a friend. I was glad you had found him and that he made you happy. If I tormented you about grandkids, it was only because I wanted you to find someone to love, like I loved your Mother. You always had so much love to give, Ben; you need someone to shower that gift with. As I said, you have your Mother's heart. When she looked at you it was sometimes blinding to watch her, she loved you that mush, Son. You were our pride, you were her treasure._   
_Well, it is almost dawn and you will be getting up soon. I have to let Buck get things started. Don't fear love, Son. Despite the drawbacks that sometimes happen, it is the most precious thing there is. Be strong Ben, and let someone one into your heart. Your mother would have wanted you to be happy and loved._   
_I love you, Son._   
_Dad'_

         Fraser swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly placed the letter back inside the envelope. He walked over to his small desk and pulled out the cigar box that held his Mother's cards, and placed the envelope inside, as someone suddenly cried out for him. He dropped the box back inside the drawer of the desk and hurried out, finding a very pregnant Francesca waddling toward him.   
         "Is it the baby?' he asked her concerned and she nodded frantically, as her brother Ray hurried in from another room.   
         "What's wrong Frannie?' he demanded worried after hearing his sister's cry.   
         "Can you get your car ready, Ray?" requested Fraser as he helped Francesca on with her coat and Ray's wife Stella approached from the small kitchen.   
         "What's going on?" she asked as Ray grabbed his coat and hurried outside the house.   
         "The b...b...baby's c..coming!" squealed her sister-in-law and Stella's eyes grew.   
         "Want me to get your bag?" she offered quickly, but Fraser had already collected the small suitcase from his study, they had put it there because it was closest to the door. Ray ran back inside and informed them the car was running, as Francesca glanced over her shoulder at Stella.   
         "Can you watch Caroline?' she pleaded as another contraction hit and her face screwed up in pain. Stella nodded, more than willing to stay with the small two year old who was currently taking a nap, with her own year old, Benton Ray, Fraser's God-son.   
         "We'll bring her by later." She assured as Fraser guided his wife to the door and down over the stone steps. Ray had opened the door of Stella's Forester and Fraser got her settled in the seat, carefully strapping her in. He slid into the back seat as Stella called Diefenbaker back, for the wold was running down the stairs after them. Fraser instructed him to stay and Ray pulled away from the small two story he and Francesca now owned.  The house had needed a lot of work when the originally bought it, but between Fraser and Ray they had made wonderful improvements over it. It was within walking distance of the Vecchio's new home, so Francesca could visit her family often and vice a versa.   
        Ray and Stella lived further inside the city, but they visited often, and Stanley Kowalski had moved to a small town in the Yukon, after marrying Fraser's sister Maggie. They had two children and Ray was working as a special Investigator with the RCMP, as a type of Liaisons officer with the United States. Maggie still worked as a Mountie, and Stanley chose to spend the time at home with his two kids, when not on assignment so Maggie could work. Fraser smiled, for his new brother-in-law was very adamant as his roll of Father, bed time stories every night, dance lessons during the evening, snowball fights every day, the children were spoiled with affection.   
          Fraser had accepted Inspector Thatcher's vacant position at the Consulate, upon his return to Chicago, and the generous salary he now received was enough that Fraser had managed to build them a small summer house where his Father's cabin had once stood. Now he and Francesca would be able to visit a few times a year, and Fraser felt he had the best of both worlds. He still got to go home and would be able to show his children their heritage, while still maintaining a life in Chicago surrounded by the people he loved most.  Francesca was happier than he had ever seen her and he was grateful she had been patient with him all this time, until he finally worked up the courage to express his true feelings toward her, which he did shortly after their return from capturing Muldoon. Ray Vecchio had been surprisingly accepting when Fraser informed him of his feelings toward his sister, though Fraser suspected Ma Vecchio had had a long talk with him that made him reevaluate his reaction.   
         At the hospital, Francesca was rushed into the birthing room, as Fraser scrubbed and they tied a gown around him. at exactly 3:15 that morning, Robert Stanley and Raymond Lewis were born. Fraser pulled out his worn blue baby blanket and wrapped Robert Jr. inside it, after the nurses cleaned the children and presented them to their parents. Francesca offered her husband a dazzling smile, despite her exhaustion and discomfort, as she held little Ray and Fraser gently rocked Robert Jr. He returned her smile and leaned over to gently kiss his wife, whispering how much he loved her, then straightened as the slight scent of peppermint invaded his senses. Robert and Caroline watched over their son and grandchildren and smiled at each other, the circle was complete.   
    
  

The End?   
  


End file.
